


Darkness is a Relative Term

by SeasSleepAndRiversDream



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, My First AO3 Post, Not beta'd we die like men, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow To Update, Vampire Harry, Vampyr science with wizarding shenanigans, Wrong Boy-Who-Lived (Harry Potter), like seriously slow updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28632078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeasSleepAndRiversDream/pseuds/SeasSleepAndRiversDream
Summary: Voldemort didn't just want to remove his prophesied enemy, he wanted to destroy the morale of his those who thrice defied him. The choice he makes defines the lives of the two. One twin is heralded as the Boy Who Lived while the other grows up far from his brother, unaware of what he is.For one chosen by Fate to save the Wizarding World he isn't having much luck.A/N: Following Vampyr lore as much as possible but adding wizarding shenanigans to make it work.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	1. Halloween

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first time posting on AO3 so here goes! I'm not sure this is needed here but in case: I don't own either Harry Potter or Vampyr, credit goes to the relevant creators!  
> Don't expect regular updates, I'm still working on this but thank you for your patience and I hope you like it!

The rain poured mercilessly down on the small village of Godric’s Hollow. Any children that braved the downpour and the driving wind in order to claim the free sweets awaiting them didn’t linger outside for long. As such there were few people around that noticed the tall cloaked figure gliding almost serenely through the darkness towards a row of houses. Had anyone been watching they would have blamed what happened next on a flicker of the light, a branch flailing over the nearby street light blocking the warm orange glow. Because between one second and the next, the figure had vanished.

Lord Voldemort allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction as the house of his enemies appeared in front of him. Flickering light from the windows illuminated the garden path for him, almost as if it was welcoming him towards the door. Wet leaves clung to the stone slabs before being disturbed by his passage, transferring to the wool of his cloak and sticking. As he approached the door it swung silently open, revealing a short round man who bowed so low his face almost bumped into the floor.

“My Lord,” the small man snivelled.

“Wormtail,” Voldemort said shortly. “The Potters?”

“Asleep, My Lord. They didn’t suspect a thing,” Wormtail smiled proudly.

“And the children?”

“Upstairs also asleep, the nursery is the first door on the left,” Wormtail scurried to the side and shut the door gently behind his master.

The pair paused in the hallway, one imperiously and the other deferentially. The slumped figures of the Potter parents on the living room sofa were in clear view of where they stood. James was sat upright, his head propped up on his hand as he leaned against the arm of the chair. Lily was curled up next to him, her head resting on his shoulder as his left was wound around her. In front of them on the coffee table were two half full goblets of dark red wine that reflected the crackling flames of the fire burning merrily in the hearth. Nothing about the scene suggested foul play, apart from the fact that a third glass of wine hadn’t even been touched.

“The despair the Potters will feel when they awake to find their children dead in their crib will be sweeter than taking their lives. They will truly know how futile it is to defy Lord Voldemort,” he said with satisfaction as he turned to the stairs. “You have proven your loyalty, Wormtail. Be ready to leave as soon as the children are dead.”

Wormtail hovered in the hallway, his gaze flickering between the two slumped figures on the sofa and the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. His dithering was interrupted by a wince as the thin cry of a small being started up as his lord awoke one of the children. Despite not liking the children, they were noisy, often stank, and took up everyone’s attention; he wasn’t at ease with his lord’s decision to target them. But what He decided Wormtail was bound to obey.

Suddenly a bright flash of green light flooded the stairway, followed a loud crashing sound. Neither of the figures by the fire stirred, and the sudden silence increased Wormtail’s fear. When nothing happened for a few minutes he gave into his curiosity. Appearing to doubt his master and checking on his progress would incur his wrath, but Wormtail had fully expected his master to have been celebrating his victory by now. Instead there was silence, which was almost worse than Voldemort bragging his victory over two infants.

The sound of the wind and the rain increased as he reached the top of the stairs, and became louder as he reached the door of the nursery. He rarely entered this room, but even from the landing he could see the room was a mess, and part of the wall was missing. Immediately by the door was a crumpled black cloak, the way it was pooled made it look like it had been discarded. However it was smoking lightly and smelled of burnt flesh. Next to it lay a wand that Wormtail would recognise anywhere.

The further he ventured into the nursery the worse the damage became. The wall where a window had once been had been blasted open allowing the rain to soak into the ragged carpet. In some ways it was fortuitous, the rain was sizzling off a few charred pieces of furniture, smothering any risk of flames catching hold. By the hole in the wall sat a pile of rubble, glass, and wood, with a tiny scrap of blue poking out from underneath everything.

Wormtail hurried over, careful to give the smoking cloak a wide berth, and started dragging lumps of rubble off the pile. There wasn’t a sound coming from the pile and for a few minutes he feared the worst, that his master was dead and the child responsible was also dead. However as he pulled the final chunk of wood out from among the bricks he revealed the remains of the crib.

Nestled in a small gap in the rubble, covered by their blanket, were two small figures. Both were unconscious and bleeding. Wormtail gingerly poked them in an arm each and flinched back, expecting the two to start howling. However both seemed unconscious so he continued on with his search. Using his sleeve to wipe the blood away from their respective injuries and stared at the result of the Dark Lord’s attack.

Although he had been around the Potters a number of times over the last year or so Wormtail still hadn’t learned how to tell the twins apart. When awake one was often more boisterous and loud, whilst the second was quieter and much harder to keep track of as he crawled off to inspect whatever took his attention. While one had dark eyes and the other’s were turning green, asleep it was almost impossible to know which was which. He thought one’s hair was lighter than the other, but fearing the parents downstairs could wake at any moment he didn’t linger to inspect that and hurried on.

The first he dug out had a large gash in his cheek, running from temple to jaw and just narrowly missing his mouth. Laying the child gently to one side Wormtail rummaged around in the rubble for a few more minutes and soon extracted the second twin. Like the first he was asleep or out cold, but thankfully quiet. This child had no visible mark on him, and at first Wormtail was going to dismiss him as unimportant. However as he moved to push the child back into the rubble it sleepily wriggled as if trying to get comfortable. Wormtail almost dropped the brat. And in that instant its dust covered baby grow shifted slightly. The poppers snapped open and Wormtail froze at the sight. On the baby’s chest, directly over his heart, was an angry red mark. The entire area looked inflamed as if the child had just been burned and instantly Wormtail knew this was the twin that had caused his Master’s downfall. He wasn’t gifted like his friends who could probably sense the dark magic in the spell scar but he could tell which injury was caused by debris and a spell.

His next ten minutes were spent dithering, as Wormtail knew something had to be done to resolve the dilemma that faced him. He was almost certain that his Master couldn’t be dead, death was just too quick and easy for Lord Voldemort. And Wormtail was terrified what the result of his betrayal would be if his master was dead and he was left to the ‘tender’ mercies of his once time friends. So after a lot of hesitation and backtracking Wormtail finally created a plan. Carefully he slid his Master’s wand into his pocket and buried one of the children once more in the rubble. The other he carefully held close to his chest as he returned the room to exactly how it had been before he had arrived. Having not cast a single spell there was no way of telling he had been there, so Wormtail and his little bundle slipped away into the night without anyone knowing.

James came awake slowly, a crick in his neck and the inability to feel his right hand making it impossible to nod back off again. He huffed in annoyance but refused to open his eyes as he tried to get comfy again. Lily asleep at his side murmured nonsensically as he repositioned his head onto the arm of the chair with his legs up and around his wife.

“Throw another log on the fire,” Lily murmured, snuggling deeper into her husband against the chill.

James forced his eyes open and blinked to get his eyes to focus again. “The fire is full, it doesn’t need another log.”

“Then why is it so cold?” Lily grouched, her mind still full of sleep.

Just then their peace was interrupted by a faint whimper that soon strengthened into a full throated scream.

“That’s William,” Lilly said instantly. “I’ll go, he probably wants another feed.”

James checked his watch and chuckled. “He’s never full, you seem to spend all your time feeding him.”

“Well he was the bigger of the two when they were born, he’s determined to stay that way,” James nodded in agreement at Lily’s statement, that boy already seemed so competitive.

His wife disentangled herself and quickly made her way upstairs. James looked at his still half full glass of wine and reached for it, fully intending to finish it before getting them some more. Lily’s piercing scream caused him to jolt and jump to his feet, the glass falling from his hands to spill a trail of red over the cream carpet.

In a matter of seconds he was standing next to his wife staring at the ruin that had once been the nursery. The cloak and the rubble told them all they needed about what had happened.

“Will! Harry!” Lily screamed as she dove towards the rubble and started madly scrabbling through it.

James joined her and together they ripped the bricks and wood away, their fear making them forget of the much easier method either of them could use. They drove forward with single mindedness, not caring for the cuts and scrapes they received, until their son was revealed. William was red in the face and wailing inconsolably as blood continued to pour down his right cheek. Lily immediately scooped him up, mindless of his and her own blood, and held him tight as she tried to comfort him.

“Where’s Harry?” JAMES!” she screamed when he didn’t reply.

“He’s not here!” James ripped the pile apart in search of their second son but the cot was empty. In desperation he trawled through the remains of the rest of the room but his search was in vain. All that was left was a bloody baby grow left next to where they’d found William.

“Harry!” Lily fell to her knees, cradling their remaining son close as she sobbed brokenly.

Neither moved for a good while as James just stared at the spot where their youngest had died, and Lily continued to sob into Will’s hair. Eventually a shiver wiggled up James’ spine and he came to himself.

“We have to summon Dumbledore,” James said, mostly to himself as he knew Lily wouldn’t be in any state to think.

Quickly he pulled his wand out and flicked it, sending a white streak of light northwards through the walls. Gently he then coaxed Lily to her feet and half carried, half guided her back down the stairs to the living room. He managed to get her sitting down before the front door burst open.

“James, I came as soon as I could,” Dumbledore said breathlessly as he hastily shut the front door behind him once more. “Are you sure it was Voldemort?”

“Who else would it have been?” James said, still numb from the events. “The nursery is as we found it, apart from where we dug William out of the rubble.”

James joined his wife on the sofa and carefully enveloped the remaining members of his family in a tight hug whilst Dumbledore disappeared upstairs. Half an hour later the older wizard returned at a slower pace, a thoughtful and grave look on his face. The couple on the sofa hadn’t seemed to have heard him and he watched them for a few minutes sombrely before he moved into the room. Lily looked asleep but here eyes were gazing dully at her remaining son, using her husband for emotional and physical support. William was silent and had been for the last ten minutes. The only one still keeping it together in some form seemed to be James who sat upright staring at the glasses on the table.

When he entered the room James turned his gaze from the glasses to the bearded man standing above him.

“It was Wormtail,” James said, cold fury in his voice now. “He was the mole who sold us out to Voldemort. Why did we ever doubt Sirius and Remus?”

“They were the ones who were likely to be the ones who Voldemort would target to extract information from. Peter, although not as brave as the others, was better at hiding and never seemed like the likely choice for such a secret. You were never as close to him as the others. Even I didn’t realise how badly we misjudged him and what he was capable of,” Dumbledore sighed as he took a seat in the empty armchair.

“He drugged us,” James gestured to the glasses of wine. “He drugged us and then once we were asleep he let his master in.”

“It seems that once William defeated Voldemort he fled with his wand too,” Dumbledore explained.

“What happened up there?” James seemed afraid to ask but he forced himself to.

“Voldemort fired one killing curse from what I could detect, aiming for William. Some power that he possesses shielded him from the curse but obliterated everything else in the room as you saw. It seems that the curse destroyed Voldemort but unfortunately William’s protection wasn’t strong enough, or perhaps fast enough, to protect his brother from the magical backlash that destroyed the room.”

“Then Harry is dead?” James wilted slightly.

“I cannot find any evidence that suggests he survived. Although they were twins it seems that William was the only one to possess the power to defeat Voldemort, and unfortunately Harold was his final victim,” Dumbledore said sadly.

“What does this all mean for us?” Lily said quietly.

The two men started, neither had thought that she was aware enough to be listening in to the conversation. Although she was still huddled against her husband’s side she slowly looked up and fixed Dumbledore with a piercing gaze.

“William has defeated the Dark Lord, he will be hailed as a hero across the entire Wizarding Community. With Voldemort gone there is no need to remain in hiding, and I’d even recommend moving and starting anew. But I fear that William’s work may not be over, something makes me hesitate from declaring Voldemort dead. There may come a time where we need William’s help once more to finally remove the Dark Lord from the world. As soon as William shows accidental magic please come to me and we can see about training him,” Dumbledore said gravely.

“Training? But he will be just a child!” Lily protested. “James showed accidental magic at five, do you really think William needs training from such a young age?”

“It won’t be anything serious to start with, merely games for him to try and exercises you can teach him to encourage his magic. As he gets older we will get him a wand and teach him more. If he is as strong as I think he is then he will need training in order to get his magic under control. Unrestrained accidental magic with his amount of talent could be destructive,” Dumbledore warned.

“We have many years to think this over,” James interrupted when it looked like Lily was about to argue. “For now I agree we need to move and find a new life. I’ll see if Gringotts is able to help us furnish one of the other Potter houses. And cover it with every known ward...”

“But not tonight, it’s almost midnight,” Dumbledore pointed to the clock that was showing 11.50pm. “Pack a few essentials and you can stay at Hogwarts until a new house is ready.”

Dumbledore summoned a House Elf to alert them to the imminent arrival of three guests to Hogwarts and watched the remaining Potters leave. Once they were gone he took a breath before firing off a number of patronuses alerting the Ministry to the good news.

**V****V**

Early on the 1st of November Britain suddenly came alive. Fireworks exploded across the skies, and parties suddenly erupted in the streets. Many people awoke to the noise and grumbled at the late night antics of the disreputable and tried to blot out the sounds of celebrating. The conservative among them bemoaned the partying habits of the young, using any excuse to get drunk and let off fireworks. Their disgruntlement continued all through night while the celebrations continued, for some unknown reason. The few people who tried to get up to discover which of their neighbours were being noisy were rewarded for their efforts. Many of the fireworks were of colours and formed shapes that they’d never seen before. Those that decided to get up to investigate the hubbub were rewarded to displays of fireworks exploding in shapes that seemed to dance and form creatures they'd never seen before in fireworks.

However not all of the world was celebrating. Even amongst those who knew the reason behind the celebrating many were not joining in. Some sat in hospitals, cradling loved ones as they waited for news of their families. Others didn’t dare believe the news until there was more information and the fighting had completely ceased. And a few were busy hiding incriminating evidence, creating alibis, and hoping that their future was not as uncertain as it felt that night.

And in London a small hooded figure was definitely not celebrating. If anything he seemed anxious to avoid the attention of the random groups of revelers out on the streets. He ignored the still pouring rain and wove through the dark alleys, keeping to the shadows and avoiding any populated streets where possible. He seemed to stop and read street signs and house numbers carefully as he moved, consulting a scrap of soggy paper in his hand.

Eventually he seemed to reach his destination, as he dropped the piece of paper onto the wet pavement and stopped inspecting the houses around him. The house he'd stopped in front of was a shabby unkept thing that seemed to suit the drab night that cloaked him.

However instead of mounting the steps and knocking the door, the figure seemed to hesitate slightly as if deciding whether to continue with his direction. After a while though he seemed to steel himself and hurried up the steps. The top step was sheltered by the overhang of the building, it could hardly be described as a porch. However it was dry, and it was onto that dry spot that the figure bent and left a bundle. The bundle of blankets stirred a little but stayed silent and asleep as the man knocked loudly on the door above him and ran away.

A short while later the door was opened by a bleary eyed woman with ragged hair and permanent dark circles under her eyes. She spotted the bundle relatively quickly and didn’t hesitate in picking up the sleeping child and cradling it close. Before she returned inside the woman scoured the street for signs of life but she couldn’t see the mother who had left her child on the doorstep. All that she saw was a bedraggled rat nosing along the opposite curb hunting for scraps.


	2. Heads and Tails

Ten year old Harry sat patiently with the other seventeen children as they waited for the minibus to pick them up. They had been picked out of the twenty five children living at the orphanage to be allowed to go to the Natural History Museum in the city. The selection process wasn’t exactly difficult, the worst behaved missed out on the treat whilst the rest go to go. So even though Harry wasn’t anyone’s favourite child his continued good behaviour meant at least he had been guaranteed a seat. And Harry was thrilled, if he’d thought he could get away with it he’d be jumping up and down and grinning. However that would draw unwanted attention to himself, so he kept still and quiet at the back of the group.

He had been living at the orphanage since he was just over a year old, not that they knew for certain when his birthday. The carers had had to guess his age as they couldn’t find any of his records and no reports of a missing child were filed. No one had ever tried to find him as far as he knew, he’d been reported to the police but no one had come knocking. Harry was glad at least he had his first name, it had been embroidered on his baby grow when he’d been left on the doorstep, and for the purpose of going to school he was given the name Smith.

All the other children came in with stories and Harry was uniquely alone with the complete mystery surrounding him. Those children taken by child services knew their families and where they came from. A few who had been orphaned were in the same boat, although they were more content to be there as they had no one else to live with Harry was the only one who had been left wilfully by his family, which made him different and therefore something to pick on.

Even when he tried to keep his head down and avoid attracting attention to himself he couldn’t get a break. He was tall for his age and skinny with it, and his hair lit him up like a beacon. He had gloriously red hair, not a ginger but a proper fire red colour almost as if he’d dyed it. Sometimes he liked it, but mostly it only caused trouble as it was something else that marked him differently to the other children. It had attracted some attention from families before but even the handful of foster families that had given him the chance hadn’t worked out. Something just kept people at a distance from him.

Harry knew he was different, he didn’t need the other children to shout that he was a freak, he was well aware of the fact. From the way he had jet black eyes and fiercely red hair, to his reasonably tall height and the fact _odd_ things kept happening around him. It wasn’t his fault that Bradley’s bed suddenly burst into fire when he broke Harry’s nose. He wasn’t the one who locked the front door so tightly that even the keys wouldn’t open it, leaving Archie and Lucie out in the rain after they had been chasing him. And he had no idea where the rumours that he could teleport things came from. That particular rumour had been around for years and although he’d never knowingly witnessed it there had to be a reason behind it.

Because of his tendency to be around odd occurrences Harry found that the carers in the orphanage didn’t like to spend time with him. For some reason he made them uncomfortable, no matter how polite or friendly they always seemed to think the worst of him. If he tried talking to them for too long they made excuses and quickly left, avoiding eye contact whenever they could.

But no matter how people felt about him he was excited to be going to the museum. If it had been down to a group vote as to who got to go out of the orphanage then he definitely wouldn’t have been going. And while he was sure the staff would have likely looked for a reason to not allow him to go he’d made sure to work for his reward. A year of slogging after the best grades in his year made a trip worth it. He enjoyed school, however his classmates seemed to share the same opinion of him that those in the orphanage did.

His excitement was slightly marred by his worry of being stuck in the minibus with the others for any stretch of time. If he was within arms reach then there was a risk of being hit ‘by accident’ by one of the others. However it seemed that the others were too excited about getting out of the orphanage and seeing anything different that they weren’t bothered about tormenting him.

“Alright alright it’s here,” Ms Lowton said in a bored voice when the minibus pulled up and she tugged the doors open. “Grab your travel buddy and take a seat.”

Harry wasn’t surprised when he was left on his own, even though he should have been paired up with someone. He took the last seat on the bus as Miss Lowton shut the door behind them and climbed in the front. The gruff man who was often around fixing things was also their driver and he ignored the screaming masses in the back of the bus. The entire half an hour trip was done with not a word spoken between the two adults, although their driver did occasionally shout at the other drivers on the road, cursing their inability to drive. Lowton just sat there on her phone and ignored everything.

The clouds above got darker and more threatening the further into the city they travelled, and as they reached the nearest car park big fat drops of rain started to fall. Despite being sat near the door on a lone seat Harry was the last off the bus as everyone shoved past him excitedly. He barely managed to pull his coat out of the door before Miss Lowton was slamming the it shut behind them all. Part of him wanted to protest at her ignoring him and almost shutting him in the door but he just sighed and hurriedly scrabbled to put his coat on.

“Right!” she shouted loud enough that the children in her charge had to listen to her. “Me and Gary will be keeping an eye on you all but we have rules. Stay with your travel buddy, you can split up to look around but we’re leaving at five. We’re giving you twenty pounds each, that has to cover food and whatever souvenir you want to buy. If you lose it, or spend it all, you aren’t getting any more.”

The woman barely glanced at any of the kids as she passed out single notes, Harry snatched his before she could take it away. That earned a glare but Harry ignored it in preference of tucking his note securely in his inside pocket. And with that she led the way along the street to the grand building a street over.

Even staring at the architecture of the building had Harry awed, the painstaking attention to symmetry and detailing on the window frames was impressive. Along with the alternating colours of stone and the ironwork at the top of the roof Harry tried to absorb all the details, not knowing if or when he’d be able to come back. However the rain was forcing the crowds inside at a quick pace and he was eventually pushed up the steps and inside.

He was pretty sure he hadn’t been outside for too long, but apparently he’d been distracted for long enough that the rest of them had disappeared into the crowds. Even the huge room the map labelled as the Hintz Hall, with Dippy the Diplodocus skeleton, failed to contain anyone from the bus.

Rather than getting upset and worked up about being left behind Harry took it as the blessing it was and instead vowed to enjoy his time alone. Spending a few of his precious pounds he bought a glossy guide book to go with the free map and chose which exhibits he wanted to see.

The day passed quickly as Harry tried to fit in everything he found even remotely interesting. Thoughts of lunch were abandoned as he took the small lull to flit through the dinosaur section before heading through the upper levels. He spent far too long staring at the skeleton of a Haast eagle before moving on to the taxidermy displays nearby.

Overall, the day without other occupants of the orphanage was incredibly pleasant and he enjoyed every second. Until the general announcement for the museum closing was broadcast. Harry jolted and fearfully looked at the battered watch on his wrist. He’d had to trade a week of chores for it and it always seemed to run five minutes slow but it was better than nothing.

It was 5.30pm, half an hour after Miss Lowton had said they were set to leave.

Swearing softly under his breath Harry tucked his guide book under his arm and practically sprinted out of the geology exhibit and flung himself down the stairs to the ground floor. The place was quite empty and he was grateful that he had to avoid large groups like when they’d arrived. However the emptiness just highlighted the distinct lack of the group he wanted to see.

“Hey sir?” Harry skidded to a halt in front of the security guard lingering near the doorway.

“Yes, what’s the matter?” although he looked bored the man at least acknowledged Harry and looked at him.

“You see a loada kids leavin’? Sev’nteen and a coupla adults?”

“Possibly, a lot of people left just now kid,” the man shrugged. “Were you supposed to be with them? We could ring them for you.”

“Nah I got it,” Harry nodded his thanks and sprinted out of the building along the street.

When he looked back on that moment Harry regretted not taking the guard up on the offer, it would have saved him a lot of fear. However he was terrified of the people at the orphanage refusing to come and get him and making him walk back. If he’d just missed the minibus group he had the chance of catching them at the car park, so he pushed himself to his fastest pace he’d ever managed.

The rain was still pouring form the sky and Harry was grateful that it was keeping the streets relatively quiet for the time of day. He imagined his journey would have been a lot harder having to deal with a pavement packed of commuters, instead he only had to dodge the few tourists, or workers who weren’t using public transport.

He clattered into the car park and hurried towards where he remembered the minibus being parked. His feet slapped through the expanding puddles and he ignored the cold wet feeling as the moisture seeped into his socks. The only thing he was focussing on was counting bays until he got to the right one, where he stared in dismay at the empty space.

“They wouldn’t leave me,” Harry muttered to himself in disbelief.

Unfortunately the evidence in front of him proved that they had, and he was alone.

The betrayal was the final straw, and for the first time in a good few years Harry allowed his anger to be shown. To anyone else it wasn’t much of a physical demonstration, he stomped around a bit and kicked the kerb a few times, but it was a quite a restrained tantrum. The fact that the lights overhead all exploded at the same time was purely a coincidence surely.

Tired and defeated Harry slumped against the wall and waited until his emotions were back under control.

“Are you alright there?”

Harry snapped his head up and stared at the source of the voice. It was a man, wearing clothes that looked fashionably rugged and his brown hair was far too styled for him to have been outside in the rain. He’d managed to get far too close to him without him noticing and that put Harry immediately on edge.

“Where’s your family?” the man stepped closer.

“They’re coming,” Harry said as he scrambled to his feet warily.

“Why did they leave you alone? They shouldn’t have done that,” the man stepped closer again. “I can wait with you until they come back again?”

“I’m fine,” Harry edged alone the wall away from him.

“I can’t let you run off alone, it isn’t safe out there,” the man said as he tried to cut Harry off.

Harry didn’t let him get the better of him and instead sprinted towards the door. With the man’s shouts echoing through the parking lot Harry pelted back out of the structure and away. He sloshed through the rain, dodging people and traffic until he was sure the man couldn’t find him again.

He only stopped when he felt like he couldn’t run any further and he could barely stand. The rain had soaked through his coat and had plastered his hair to his forehead. Dodging off the street and into an alley Harry slumped against the wall to catch his breath.

Only once he was slightly more rested did he realise that he hadn’t been paying attention to where his feet had taken him. Only as he looked around at the nearby shops and street names did Harry realise he had no idea where he was.

“Oh dammit,” he groaned and thumped his head against the wall.

**V****V**

Dumbledore looked down at the scene below him and tried to hide a sigh. To anyone it would have looked like a perfect idyllic scene, a father and son playing while the mother watched on proudly. However two of the three people in the garden behind the quaint cottage were causing him plenty of concern. Most of his spare time was taken up trying to help the Potters, and so far little of his efforts had paid off.

William had shown signs of magic at three years old; he managed to summon a toy to him that had been left across the room. Even he was surprised at how soon the child’s magic had started to appear and at first he worried that William would continue to be magically active. However the odd bits of magic only happened every few months or so. Nothing was particularly major, odd toys and treats were whizzed across the room into his hands, and once he’d managed to silence the living room when Sirius was too noisy.

By the time he was five Dumbledore decided to get involved and started to visit William once a week. He made sure to always bring a toy or a game for the child to play with, and each one was designed to get William to focus and think. He managed to make them look fun and entertaining and managed to trick William into learning as he went. When Lily’s shrewd gaze that swung between the toys and himself he knew she had figured out the reason behind his gifts. But she didn’t complain, and the other two Potter’s remained ignorant.

At six he started overseeing William’s first magical lessons. It had taken a bit of discussion and persuasion but eventually he had had their permission to start instructing the child. Lily had been fiercely against involving William in anything that could put him in danger, and James had been almost as reluctant. She was still too pained by the loss of their other son to think of risking their surviving child and seemed determined to keep him out of any conflicts. However James at least kept the threat of Voldemort’s return in his mind and argued his side. It took a few months but eventually Lily acquiesced to his ideas and they went to buy his wand. Ollivander at least hadn’t needed any convincing, he just stared at them with his knowing gaze before pulling out boxes and offering them to the child.

He intentionally began with the lessons being easy and fun, getting him to make red sparks with his wand. The first game he got William playing with his family was everyone had to hide and William had to find them, and would send red sparks into the air when he discovered their hiding places. Dumbledore would count how long it took him to find everyone who was hiding. To William it was just a slightly more intricate game of hide and seek, but he had planned it so that the boy would get used to the feel of his wand using a very easy spell. Beyond that it also taught him to pay attention to his surroundings and to move quickly, which would serve him well in battle.

Once William had gotten comfortable with his wand they progressed into slightly more complex spells. Although he wanted to teach him defensive spells Lily was adamant that they avoided combative training until he was ten. As transfiguration was something that required more control and concentration Dumbledore also delayed those lessons. So for the first two years William mostly spent learning charms and odd spells to focus his mind and control.

Today was one of his break days, and William seemed eager to enjoy it to the full. He only had six hours of lessons over the week, with a couple of hours homework each week. They’d slowly increased it over the four years as they’d started to introduce more spells.

As much as William seemed to enjoy magic he took right after his father and preferred to spend his time on a broom. James was closely supervising his son on his toy broomstick and the two seemed to be caught up in a game of chase, although it was obvious James was flying much slower than he could do to make it fair. He had been making noises about buying William a proper broom, but Lily had been fighting him for against that idea. Dumbledore kept quiet about how he knew James had already let their son use his own broom while Lily was out. If she did find out then he was sure Lily would not be so content to sit on the patio reading the newspaper. The three of them looked like a perfectly content family and no one would know the difference, but Dumbledore knew there were many things wrong.

James was worried about Lily, they had been trying for another child since William was two but it was eight years later and they hadn’t been successful. According to the healers there was nothing wrong, but apparently the intense grief Lily had felt at the loss of their other son had affected her deeply. He had been there to discuss with James the results of his latest research, and he had just left to tell Lily. He wished with all his heart the small family could be joined by more children, but so far the results were far from hopeful looking.

A sudden shout of laughter dragged his attention from the redhead to the two black haired men out on the lawn. James hadn’t been quick enough to dodge and William had managed to tag him, and was loudly gloating over his win. Dumbledore frowned slightly, his thoughts once more on his student. For as long as possible his parents had tried to keep William at home and out of the limelight, but that couldn’t continue forever. James had his job and while Lily had friends she could leave William with she tended to prefer to keep him close. So on odd occasions they ventured out into the wizarding world, and invariably cam face to face with the many fans their child had out there. It hadn’t taken William long to pick up on the attention heaped upon him, and he had developed a taste for his celebrity status. The numerous gifts he got each year at Christmas and his birthday only added to his happiness at being famous.

It wasn’t a major concern, a proud saviour Dumbledore could work with. However if it impacted William too much, to the point he didn’t see the need to train, then Dumbledore would have to crack down on that attitude. He was worried that they were getting close to needing that intervention.

William, although good at the spells he knew, was hardly excelling in his lessons. Any average magical child with the same tutoring would be able to reach the same level as William, perhaps with a bit more effort or a few months more training. They would certainly be able to build up the reserves that William had so that he could cast for extended periods without becoming fatigued. Either way, William was not showing any signs of being a prodigy in any particular field of magic, nor was he showing the signs of being overly magically powerful. He was definitely above average for power as far as Dumbledore could tell without proper testing, but hardly up to Voldemort’s level.

He had been expecting that because William had defeated Voldemort that he would be a magically powerful child, one that would need the lessons for control. Dumbledore was expecting another Riddle, a child that was far beyond his own year in terms of knowledge and power. So far nothing he had shown proved Dumbledore’s theory, William was only just above average.

So he hoped that the ‘power the Dark Lord knows not’ was something more than just brute force. By giving him the training Dumbledore was hoping that it was helping whatever was in William that would defeat Voldemort. With a thoughtful frown firmly on his face he quietly left his lofty viewpoint and headed to the fireplace downstairs in order to return to Hogwarts. While the Potters would remain on his mind, he had other matters that required his immediate attention.

  
  



	3. A Meeting in the Dark

It hadn’t stopped raining for two days, and Harry was utterly miserable. It was now Monday, and he was sure the orphanage must have noticed he was missing by now. However he hadn’t seen a single shred of evidence that they did, no posters or news articles anywhere. He would have gone to the police and turned himself in, but he had no idea where the nearest station was. He hadn’t seen any wandering along the streets either, any presence was usually in a police car screaming down the road with their siren on. He didn’t dare approach a stranger either, after that first man gave him a bad feeling he stuck to avoiding people and trying to find his way back on his own.

He’d avoided the main streets, his lessons at school covering abduction and stranger danger had thoroughly impressed upon him the need to avoid talking to strangers. However they would have likely been the most useful in finding his way back to the orphanage. Out of everything he wished he’d paid more attention in their woefully ineffective geography lessons. The maps were always badly defaced so you could barely make out the road names let alone any useful details. So he had no idea where any of the useful landmarks he could see were in reference to his school or the orphanage.

And while he was mildly terrified about being lot and alone, a small part of him was enjoying it. The rain had soaked through his clothes and he was frozen, but exploring the city and being out in the world was intriguing. He’d learned far more about the streets through walking along them than hours of lessons or television watching. The only bonus of going back to the orphanage would be a warm bed and dry clothes. So while he was eager to return to the drab building and lonely rooms, he was making the most of his excursion.

It was very early in the morning, still a good three hours before sunrise and far too early for any sensible person to be awake. With the streets empty Harry risked heading out of his small hidey hole and started walking again. Over the last couple of days he’d been forced to dodge and hide from numerous people which had slowed him down. But they were groups that had caused him to frown and want to hide. They all wore brown coats with odd red patches on their upper arms and they seemed to be looking for something. There was nothing to make him worry about them, they could just be some fans of a film or something that the characters wore the same coat. However Harry followed his urge to hide and wait for them to have passed just in case he was right and they were dangerous.

He crossed the road and headed left, roughly westwards and closer to the orphanage. On the corner of the block a shop was already open, the day’s newspapers in the stand outside and the lights inside welcoming in early customers. Harry’s stomach rumbled and he hesitated over buying more food. After buying his guidebook, which he kept out of principle even if it was getting crumpled in his pocket, he had had a tenner left over. Yesterday he’d tentatively bought a few snacks from a small supermarket, the cashier hadn’t cared about him as she’d taken his money. However the smell of fresh pastries wafting from the shop pulled him closer like a spell.

But when he saw the man inside he froze. Nothing about him was giving him a bad feeling but he was looking at him with concern. Harry wasn’t used to anyone caring, there was the risk that this person would care enough to get involved. The sudden attention made him feel uncomfortable so Harry picked up his feet and hurried onwards. As soon as he could he changed roads, zigzagging his way through them until he was on an empty street with people that could try and talk to him. No patrolling groups of brown coated men, no police or slimy feeling men, no shopkeepers to care about him.

But there was the sound of crying.

The area he was in was a short stretch of shops that were all closed and dark. From the street lights he could tell they were mostly grocery stores and the variety of writing Harry couldn’t read told him they were for cultures from across the world. In between the stores stood a few nail bars, barbers, electronic stores and a bookies. If it had been daytime he was sure it would have been interesting to look around but instead he was left staring at shutters with nothing to distract him from the snuffling sounds echoing form somewhere.

He followed it, heading through to the trash strewn back alley. Grime, rotten food, and overflowing bins made it a very unattractive place to be standing let alone spending any time around. And yet Harry could see a huddled figure at the end of it, lit by a grime covered security light halfway down the alley.

“Who, who’s there?” a voice called out warily before he’d even gotten within five metres of the figure.

“A friend,” Harry said, not really sure what to say to comfort her and not quite willing to give her his name. “Why you cryin’?”

“I’ve been thrown out,” the woman, Harry wasn’t sure how old she was although her voice sounded young. “I have nowhere to go.”

“Why? Was it your family? What happened?” Harry asked cautiously.

He didn’t have much experience with family life but it seemed unfair that someone would get abandoned by their family. To him family was a sacred thing and he couldn’t imagine someone willingly giving up a relative. He knew he’d been abandoned, and none of the family’s who’d been interested in him had stuck around either. How families could abandon people willingly was a concept far beyond his understanding.

“We argued… My father believed my mother and she never loved me...” the girl sobbed.

The alley fell silent, apart from the pattering of rain and the heartbroken sobs of the teen in front of him. Eventually, not knowing what else to do, Harry shuffled a little closer and sat next to her. It was cold and he shivered slightly before trying to huddle deeper into his coat.

After a while her tears calmed down to sniffles and soon they were sitting in silence. Harry was feeling incredibly awkward but it seemed like his attempt to give her support had helped. As he moved slightly to alleviate the pins and needles in his leg he rumpled the packet in his pocket.

“D’you want some food? S’not much but I got cereal bars?” Harry offered.

He stood so that he could access his pockets easier, his hand brushed the guide book before he dug out the two chocolate bars he had left. The sugar had helped but they hadn’t kept him full for long. When he looked up he was startled to see that the girl had stood up and was barely out of arms reach. He instinctively took a step back to try and get some distance between them again. He hadn’t heard her move and her sudden closeness startled him.

“I am hungry,” she said softly.

Harry looked up into her eyes and his breath caught in his throat. She was much taller than he had expected, instead of a kid his age she was probably in her late teens. With her jet black hair, pale skin, and pale blue eyes she was incredibly beautiful in Harry’s eyes. If anything she looked more like a china doll than a human. No matter how hard he tried to look away Harry found himself trapped in her eyes.

“What’s your name?” she asked in a low voice.

“H-Harry,” he managed to stammer out.

A part of him was suddenly very scared, all sorts of alarm bells were ringing in his head as he stared at her. Most of him was very happy to stare at her, not caring that he couldn’t turn away from her gaze even if he wanted to. He could only move when she pushed him into moving, her hand gently placed on his chest forced him to turn and walk backwards until he was wedged between the two bins.

“Harry? That’s a nice name, it suits you. I’m Kayla,” she whispered as she brought her head closer to his.

“Wh-wh-what…?” he had to fight to make his lips move, as if she’d sapped him of energy.

All he wanted to do was continue to stare into her eyes for the rest of time. If they’d been swimming he would have happily followed her under the water until it claimed him as long as he could keep her within his sights. As her lips brushed against his forehead he let out a small sigh of contentment. He shuddered with glee when she hugged him, apparently not caring that he couldn’t lift his arms to hug her back.

“You’re such a sweet boy, I’m sorry for this,” she whispered. “But I am so, so hungry.”

His satisfaction of her hugging him again was suddenly ripped away as an intense pain stabbed through the left side of his neck. The scream of pain he desperately wanted to release got caught just below the point of agony in his neck, however he could feel his face scrunching up in pain as if he was howling. Warmth slowly trickled down his neck and started to soak into his shirt.

“Hush, just relax” Kayla breathed.

As she spoke his body did relax, to the point it was only her surprisingly strong arms keeping him upright. He felt as powerful as a worm, pinned up by her own strength and forced to remain against the wall rather than falling to the alley floor. Her mouth returned to his neck and he realised she was drinking his blood. Fear and disgust gave him power and he struggled against her grip, desperately trying to get free. Not that it did much more than jostle her slightly and distract her from her meal.

“I said _**relax**_ ,” she growled, apparently tired of his efforts.

He could feel the compulsion to desist and let her continue to feed wash over him. However knowing the truth gave him the energy to fight back, and she’d barely started to feed again before he was trying to wriggle away from her.

“A fighter hey?” Kayla sounded almost amused at his attempts. “It seems a shame to waste you, I can taste such potential within you. But you will keep me going for the week, such strength in you.”

Her hand clamped over his mouth and nose, cutting off his air supply and weakening him further. The more he struggled the less energy he had. With his last bit of strength Harry worked his jaw open and bit down hard, hoping that would free him from her grasp. It worked to some extent, her hands loosened from his face and he managed to suck in a breath, choking as her blood went down his throat and he had to swallow to avoid it going into his lungs.

He had no time to feel disgusted at the thought of drinking blood, a coldness was spreading across his body and he could barely keep his head up. Harry felt a swell of anger and fear bubble through him and he just wished she would leave him alone.

Suddenly he was on the floor.

Blinking grime from his eyes he could just about make out a blurry figure disappearing down the alley, although she seemed to be limping and in pain. He couldn’t really think much about it though, as the last of his energy was gone and Harry gave in to the darkness that swallowed him.

**V****V**

Barely one hundred miles away another figure sat bolt upright, breathing heavily and shaking. Despite the warmth of his bed he shivered, the dregs of his dream still haunting him and making him feel worse.

Giving into the flight response he kicked off his covers and slipped from his room. He didn’t need any kind of light to help him navigate his way past the sleeping portraits and through to the study. Normally his mother’s study was her refuge, a quiet place that they could all enter but had to respect her rules. The warm feeling of love and gentle calm helped to slowly wash away the echoes of his nightmare.

Pattering past the large leather chair he dragged the throw off the back and unfurled it before curling up in front of the barely warm hearth. As he watched the last few glowing coals fade from a blood red to black he unconsciously rubbed at his neck, trying to forget the feeling of teeth ripping through his skin.

He’d had a few odd dreams before, dreams of cold grey rooms and loud children, but this was the most disturbing he’d had. His parents had explained that he might be able to do unusual stuff, even for a wizard, thanks to surviving the killing curse. He hadn’t expected weird dreams to be one of those things, but as he started to drift off again Will decided it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.

Come morning, when his mother shook him awake and guided him back to his room to dress for the day, he didn’t remember a thing.

In fact across the country there was little left as evidence of what he thought was a dream. The alley was deserted and no different bar a small patch of blood hidden between two bins. And in a castle at the other end of the country sat a book that was just a little emptier. It didn’t contain any great Shakespearean works, or any works at all. Instead merely a long list of names were forever being added to or crossed off. And overnight a hovering quill had neatly scratched of a name that had sat there for ten years.


End file.
